


What's Me Without You?

by CreativWit



Series: Decisions [2]
Category: MacGyver (TV 2016)
Genre: "It's okay to be not okay; it's not okay to not tell anyone about it.", Car Accident, Depression, Description of Injuries, Fear of Abandonment, Gen, Implied/Referenced Suicidal Thoughts/Actions, Mental Health Conversations, Regret, Resolved Broken Friendships, Some Swearing, resolved tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-24
Updated: 2019-10-24
Packaged: 2021-01-02 03:37:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,165
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21154976
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CreativWit/pseuds/CreativWit
Summary: Mac will soon find out the fear of losing someone will always overcome pride.





	What's Me Without You?

**Author's Note:**

> Title: What’s Me Without You?  
Genre: Friendship/Hurt/Comfort  
Rating: T  
Characters: Wilt Bozer, Angus MacGyver  
Summary: Mac will soon find out the fear of losing someone will always overcome pride.  
Pairings: None  
Warnings: Depression, Fear of Abandonment, Regret, Some Suicidal Thoughts/Ideations, Some Swearing, Car Accident, Description of Injuries  
Word Count: 10,077 words; 25 pages on Google Docs  
Author’s Note: I wasn’t too comfortable leaving off the last story the way I did. Here is a fix-it to my own story, haha! Please enjoy!

* * *

_“What is a wave without the ocean? _

_ A beginning without an end? _

_ They are different, but they go together. _

_ Now you go among the stars, _

_ And I fall among the sand. _

_ We are different, but we go... _

_ Together.” _

~ Sea Emperor Leviathan, Subnautica

* * *

“How are we feeling today, Bozer?”

_ “We _ aren’t feeling anything, Doc,” he murmured in response, staring out the window. “You aren’t feeling what I am.”

“Maybe not, but maybe I can understand a little better if you tell me about it.”

Bozer sighed deeply through his nose. “It’s been almost three months since we saw each other in that Starbucks.”

“And?” Doctor Redding pried gently.

“And I still don’t know how to fix it.”

“So you believe it can still be fixed?”

Bozer’s heart leapt to his throat. He shot Doctor Redding an alarmed glance. “You’re saying that it can’t be?”

Doctor Redding returned the look with his own raised eyebrow. “Well, now. I didn’t say that, did I? Just merely asked if you still had hope.”

“I guess?” Bozer shifted his gaze back out the window. “I think some small, childish part of me still wants to believe that maybe this isn’t permanent, that something can still be salvaged, but the rest of me doesn’t think so. Not anymore.”

“Which side do you want to talk about more?”

Bozer stayed quiet for a moment. After a brief silence, he whispered, “The hopeful one.”

Doctor Redding gave a short nod, scribbling some notes on his writing pad. “What can you tell me about it?”

“It’s small,” Bozer started, voice quiet. “It’s so small, I can barely hear it sometimes. When my head is so noisy with all these thoughts, I can’t hear it at all. But when it’s all so quiet, I can hear it in the back of my mind, telling me that the last meeting was not the end.” Another sigh. “I’m not sure if I believe it as much as I think I do.”

“So you want to believe it, but you don’t?”

“Yeah. I...I want to think that I still have a chance - I want to try again so badly - but I know it’s not realistic. If he didn’t forgive me then, why would he forgive me now?”

Doctor Redding offered a small smile. “Time is a funny thing, Bozer.”

Bozer’s eyes drifted back over to his therapist, who had stopped taking notes and was now focusing fully on him. “Funny how?”

“What may seem like an adequate amount of time for one person may be inadequate for another. Just because you’re ready, it doesn’t mean Mac is.”

“But _ he _ came up to _ me _ that day.” Bozer frowned.

“I don’t disagree with you. I’m sure he did, but not all of our decisions are thought about rationally. You left without warning that night, Bozer. Dropped off the face of his earth. Do you think it’s possible that his need for answers overrode his rationale that day?”

Bozer swallowed thickly. He had thought about it. Mac seemed hesitant that day, unsure if he should approach his table or not. It hurt to see the person he saw as a brother not want to talk to him, but he understood. He understood because he knew what he did. He had put himself in Mac’s shoes, what it would be like if the roles had been reversed. Bozer didn’t even have abandonment issues like Mac did, and it still hurt like a hot knife to the gut when he thought about it. He could only imagine what Mac was thinking.

“Did you know my mom and brother argued a lot when I was a kid?”

Doctor Redding tilted his head, intrigued by the sudden topic change. “Yeah?”

Bozer nodded minutely. “Yeah. They argued so much. Too alike, I guess. Anyways, my uncle and my mom went a while without talking. I don’t really know my uncle and cousins. One day, my uncle called my mom and wanted to meet with her one-on-one, just to talk. My mom was still bitter about the last argument they had. She held grudges a lot. But she still went.”

Bozer drew in a deep sigh. Doctor Redding didn’t interrupt. “Apparently, my uncle had become really religious over the few years we hadn’t spoken. Started listening to sermons and reading passages about family and forgiveness. My mom didn’t want to hear it. They got into another fight, one somehow worse than the last one. That was the last time I ever heard from my uncle.”

Doctor Redding hummed after a moment of silence. “Sounds like your mother wasn’t as ready as your uncle was.”

Bozer shook his head softly. “Do you think that’s how Mac felt? That I was ready to see him after all these months of regretting what I did but he wasn’t? That he was still bitter?”

“I can’t speak for Mac. I don’t know him like you do. Do _ you _ think he was still bitter?”

A few seconds of silence passed. “I don’t know what to think anymore,” he finally whispered.

Doctor Redding let a sad smile cross his face. “Let’s talk about that.”

* * *

Bozer sighed deeply, breathing in the crisp, fall air of Los Angeles as the door to Doctor Redding’s office shut behind him. It wasn’t exactly the best smell in the world, but certainly one he had grown used to. He closed his eyes and hung his head, collecting himself before beginning his walk down the street towards the nearest coffee shop. He hadn’t visited the Starbucks nearby since that encounter three months ago. He bet Mac avoided it, too, if Bozer knew him well enough.

<strike> Did he know anything anymore? </strike>

He could feel the paper shifting in his back pocket as he walked, and his hand moved several times to check if it wasn’t slipping out. He couldn’t afford to lose the only thing that would keep him grounded anymore. 

Zoloft.

When Doctor Redding first mentioned prescribing it to him almost a year ago, Bozer had been hesitant. He wanted to research it before he agreed. Lo and behold, not only did Zoloft treat depression, but also PTSD. Bozer mentioned to Doctor Redding once or twice about being stabbed, even though he never said the real reason why. The story he had gone with was that he had been attacked by some druggie while he was running errands late at night. It was by the grace of God Mac had found him. It felt weird to be lying to his _ therapist _ – sounded a bit counterproductive – but Bozer wasn’t going to rat out the Phoenix Foundation simply because he didn’t work there anymore.

He had to admit, he missed it sometimes. Missed having Jill to chat and joke with in the lab. Missed the teasing between him and Riley. He even missed the rare moments with Jack. The old man could provide good company from time to time. Bozer sighed to himself. He made this choice. He had to deal with the consequences.

Even if it did mean dealing with depression and small bouts of PTSD on his own.

Zoloft had been hard at first. He found himself unable to sleep a lot of nights, though he supposed that could have been caused by a number of things, whether it be a real side effect of his new medication, the anxiety of taking pills at all, his hard mattress with no bed frame, or some other new factor in his life he really didn’t want to acknowledge. Adjusting to his new way of living started off horribly. The harsh reality he had subjected himself to caught him off-guard. Thinking about it back then, he thought he could handle it and that it was the right choice to make. Actually doing it, though, showed him how unprepared he truly was. He had gotten so used to someone else staying with him, always having noise in the background of whatever he happened to be doing at that moment. Normally, sound would come from the TV, his Spotify on his phone, or maybe even someone like Mac talking to him about one thing or another. But now he lived alone, he didn’t own any electronics, didn’t even pay his electricity bill, and he hadn’t charged his phone in almost a year. 

His apartment stayed silent.

Doctor Redding didn’t approve of his new living conditions in the slightest, had highly advised against it, especially when he decided to put Bozer on Zoloft. His main concern was Bozer not having anyone around should the medication caused any unwanted side effects, one of which being an increase of suicidal thoughts or actions.

_ “I already have enough of those. I doubt it can get any worse,” Bozer snorted, but no humor joined his tone. _

_ Doctor Redding shook his head in disbelief. “Not the point. You may have those thoughts now, but you haven’t acted on them. Zoloft may just be the thing that does that to you.” _

_ “Doc, I am almost thirty years old. If I can’t look out for myself, then I very well should be dead.” _

_ “And now we are going to most definitely talk about that.” _

_ “Our hour’s almost up.” _

_ “Consider this extenuating, emergency circumstances.” He gave a wry smile. “Good thing my next appointment is a few hours from now, wouldn’t you say?” _

Bozer hadn’t experienced any “increased risk,” but the sleepless nights did get to him. Not sleeping meant more time to think. More time to think meant more time to regret, and the last thing Bozer needed to do was continue to berate himself for a choice he made months prior. Now, as autumn grew colder, Bozer found himself craving a kind of warmth he abandoned over eight months ago. No amount of pumpkin spice lattes could cure the chill his guilt left crawling down his spine. 

<strike> This was his bed. </strike>

He stood at the edge of the curb, waiting for the crosswalk light to turn green. This side of town should have grown familiar to him, but he had yet to call this place home, so his brain had decided not to take a mental note of directions yet. He only knew his way from the apartment, to Doctor Redding’s office, to the nearest Starbucks (which he couldn’t even _ go to _ anymore), and to the bookstore he worked at. He tried not to memorize the faces of people around him. Some desperate hope in him still believed that this place may not be where he lived anymore soon, and he couldn’t really bring himself to care about what may take him away from it, so long as _ something _ did.

<strike> He’d made the bedsheets, placed the covers. </strike>

The crosswalk sign turned green, and he ventured onto the street alone. He continued to look down at the street instead of around him. All he could think about was his next destination: coffee. Thinking about anything else hurt too much.

<strike> He’d tucked the blankets under the bed like the hotels did, fluffed his pillows. </strike>

He didn’t see the Ford F-450 barreling towards him after eating a red light. His thoughts blocked out the warnings screamed from surrounding pedestrians and the horns blaring from cars.

<strike> The bed had looked comfortable, warm...inviting. </strike>

At first, he felt nothing, but he still found himself rolling across the hood of the truck. It felt like a wrecking ball had been slammed into him, yet no pain came.

<strike> So he’d climbed right on in, buried himself in what he thought were feather-stuffed pillows and velvet sheets. </strike>

_ There _was the pain. Burning one side, sharp and stinging on others. His vision had gone dark. Wasn’t it still early afternoon?

<strike> He’d settled down on the mattress, closed his eyes, and prepared himself to drift off to sleep. </strike>

He heard people surrounding him, felt hands shaking him. He wanted to push them off, to get them away from him, but he couldn’t quite move any part of his body. For what seemed like forever, he felt alienated from the world, until he heard a familiar voice above him. The voice sounded strong, steady, the same kind of voice that eased his fears and worries. It was the voice that calmed him, that sat with him for an hour three days a week, that prescribed him Zoloft in hopes that maybe it could help Bozer become the person he once was. Doctor Redding.

<strike> After a while, he’d opened his eyes again. </strike>

He could hear Doctor Redding attempting to coax him into opening his eyes, but everything felt so heavy…Why was the ground so hard?

<strike> The bed hadn’t been at all what it seemed, what he’d expected. </strike>

He felt gravel digging into his back. Something warm ran down his arms, his face, his legs…

<strike> The mattress felt like _ cement_, and it _ hurt_. </strike>

“You’re going to be okay. Just stay with us.”

<strike> But, still, he closed his eyes. </strike>

“Bozer, hang on. Help’s coming soon.”

<strike> Because this was the bed he’d made himself. </strike>

He could hear the sirens of the ambulance, but they sounded so far away….

<strike> And it was time he lay in it. </strike>

* * *

“Hey, wanna go out for beers tonight? Matty and Riley are tagging along…”

Mac withheld an exasperated sigh. It wasn’t the first time Jack had tried to get him to go out with them since Bozer had left, and it certainly wouldn’t be the last. Mac didn’t have the energy to fake a mask around people since the night Bozer moved out, and the blow dealt from their last encounter three months ago left him more drained than their worst mission ever had. So, no, he didn’t want to go out, and, yes, please stop asking.

“Not tonight,” he replied, the same answer he always gave, with a fragile smile as the cherry on top. He didn’t bother to add the “maybe next time,” because he knew the answer would be the same the next time Jack asked.

The older man didn’t even look disappointed, only resigned. He already knew the answer, but he always figured it wouldn’t hurt to ask. Mac didn’t have the heart to tell him that it _ did _ hurt, because being asked meant wondering why he was so exhausted all the time, and wondering that only reminded him that his energy never had time to refill itself due to sleepless nights. Those sleepless nights included tossing and turning in his bed, twisting himself in his blankets and leaving him feeling like his heart, which was twisted as well. Twisted with guilt and regret, with could’ve’s and should’ve’s, with _ “I’m sorry” _ and _ “please, come back” _ still ringing through his head.

Those nights hurt. So did the crying.

Mac had never really cried, especially after his father left. Life taught how to dodge curveballs and brave through those that managed to hit. But this had been a curveball he could’ve never prepared for. He’d long since gotten over his fear of Bozer leaving – Bozer had been sure to nip that in the bud by the time they agreed to move in together when they first arrived in L.A. – but then the unthinkable happened, and Bozer was gone. When the one thing he had left to live for disappeared, what was he supposed to do next?

Wallow in self-pity, he supposed. The world seemed very unwilling in providing any other form of salvation. Maybe this was all his life was left to be. He knew that he might be a bit over-exaggerative, but his best friend – his _ brother _ – left him with no explanation until five months later. The one person he thought he could trust when he couldn’t trust his own flesh and blood betrayed him. _ “The blood of the covenant is thicker than the water of the womb,” _ but if the supposedly thick and strong blood ties could be severed, then were any of his relationships safe? What if this wasn’t just about the hurt he felt, but also the trust that had been taken from him? Putting his faith into others proved difficult even when Bozer had still been around. Now, he wondered if he could ever do it again.

_ Sorry, Jack, but even this friendship might not survive. _

“Alright then,” Jack sighed. “Call me if you change your mind.”

They both knew he wouldn’t.

With one last glance, Jack turned and walked further into the Foundation, leaving Mac by the door. The blond had been in the process of leaving to go home when Jack stopped by. He doubted he wanted to go home to an empty house now. With a sigh, Mac pushed open the door and headed to his car. 

He climbed into the driver’s seat and turned the key in the ignition, the rumbling of the car vibrating his seat. He sighed and leaned his head back against the seat for a moment, the radio very softly playing in the background. He tried not to listen to music too often – Bozer had been a fan of a lot of modern-day music – but he couldn’t take the silence sometimes. If silence could suffocate, he should have died from asphyxiation months ago.

Just as he reached for the gear shift, his phone began to ring from its spot in the front seats’ cup holders. Frowning, and a bit curious, he grabbed it. Not many people called him nowadays, and he said goodbye to those who would only minutes ago. He thanked God for caller ID, but it still didn’t make sense when he saw that a hospital nearby had chosen to call him.

He swiped on the green ‘answer call’ button and pressed the phone to his ear. “MacGyver.”

_ “Hi, Mr. MacGyver. My name is Derrick Hanes. I’m a nurse at Good Samaritan Hospital. I’m calling because you are listed as an emergency contact for a patient that was recently brought in a few hours ago.” _

Mac’s eyebrows creased in confusion. “Who am I an emergency contact for?”

_ “A Wilt Bozer, sir.” _

Mac’s blood ran cold, and his body stilled. What the hell? Why was he still Bozer’s emergency contact? His breath hitched. Was Bozer still _ his? _ Why didn’t he think of that before?

_ “Sir? Are you still there?” _

“Um, yeah. Is he…Is he okay? What’s going on?” He couldn’t help the worry that coursed through him. Every day, he regretted the choice he made back at the Starbucks three months ago, regretted the words he said and the way he left. Every day, he wished he could make up for it, to take back what he said, to apologize. Maybe now was his chance. Would Bozer forgive him? More importantly, was Mac still angry? Was there some untapped part of him that still held anger and resentment for the pain Bozer had put him through? Because the day they met at Starbucks, that reserve of emotion had sprung a leak and made Mac react in a way he didn’t want to again. If this was another chance to make things right, he didn’t want some unchecked hurt to ruin it.

_ “It’s not something we prefer to address over the phone. We’d rather speak to you here, but what I can tell is that there has been an accident.” _

An accident…. Mac’s heart leapt to his throat. He’d been thinking so much about a second chance that he hadn’t stopped to wonder if Bozer was even _ alive _ for a second chance. His eyes burned. No. Bozer couldn’t be gone. There was so much left unsaid.

_ “The doctors are treating him now. I’ll tell you more when you arrive.” _

Mac swallowed thickly. “Right. Of course. Thank you.” He ended the call.

It took a moment for him to react. He stared out the windshield and into the dark garage, phone held limply in his hand. Nurse Hanes’ words ran through his head. _ “…Hospital…Wilt Bozer…an accident…doctors are treating him now.” _

Bozer could be _ dying_.

Mac let out a choked sob that he never felt coming. He buried his face in his hands. For the past few months, ever since finding out Bozer left because of his mental health, Mac wondered if the reason Bozer died would be at his own hand. Mac never would have thought his best friend would kill himself, but it all seemed so real that day, and it seemed even more real now. Now that Mac was finally faced with Bozer’s potential fate, time seemed so much shorter. It had felt like time was on his side, that he was still young and had so much left, but now it seemed like there wasn’t enough. This could be his last chance to see his friend, to apologize. Hell, to even say _ goodbye_. Because Bozer, no matter what had happened, was still his best friend.

Mac never drove faster in his life.

* * *

The waiting room felt so cold. The pastel green walls and brown chairs did little to bring any warmth into the room, did little to offer comfort. Very few people were there, and they were all spread throughout, leaving at least three chairs in between them. No one wanted company, it seemed. Doctor Redding understood. He didn’t want much company, either. As a therapist, he knew what he was feeling and, really, he shouldn’t be here. But he had almost watched his patient die in front of him, and as far as he was concerned, Bozer didn’t have anyone else…very much like himself. So, even if it may bring up some issues with doctor-patient relationships later on, Doctor Redding’s need to see his patient alive and well outweighed his sense of professionalism.

That is, until a harried blond in his late twenties stumbled to the receptionist.

Doctor Redding didn’t really mean to eavesdrop, but the waiting room was so dreadfully boring and silent that he couldn’t quite help overhearing the name spoken from the young man’s lips.

“I’m here for Wilt Bozer. A Derrick Hanes called me.”

Doctor Redding tilted his head slightly and hummed softly to himself. Needless to say, he found himself a bit intrigued. Why would Angus MacGyver be here of all places? A small smile crept on his lips. Maybe he hadn’t been as wrong in their therapy sessions as Bozer had proclaimed.

He watched as MacGyver received the same information as he first did and followed him as the blond trudged into the waiting room. He supposed MacGyver was a bit too overwhelmed to notice the precise layout of the room because he ended up plopping himself just a seat away. Doctor Redding wasn’t exactly a man of religion, but this _ had _ to be God’s will.

He raised his eyes to the ceiling. He really shouldn’t be doing this; he already crossed the borders of professional and personal several times, but this…he simply couldn’t help himself. 

“You’re here for Wilt Bozer, too, I presume?”

MacGyver’s focus snapped from the tiled floor to him. “How did you know?”

“I may have overheard you speaking with the front desk,” he replied with a sheepish smile.

MacGyver bit his lip. Doctor Redding took in the tense posture. Seemed as though the lad was a tad anxious. He couldn’t blame the poor fellow. He was, too. 

“Who are you to Bozer?” MacGyver asked softly.

Doctor Redding held out a hand. “Doctor Taylor Redding. I’m Bozer’s therapist. You must be Mac.” 

Mac shook his hand hesitantly. “Uh, yeah. I am.” He paused. “I’m sorry, but why would his therapist be here?”

Doc sobered up some. The accident wasn’t easy to forget, nor was it easy to remember. He recalled looking out the window as he waited for his next appointment, watching cars drive by. Out of curiosity, he followed Bozer walking down the sidewalk and waiting for the crosswalk light to change. He watched Bozer start crossing the street and was about to look away when he caught sight of a truck eating what he assumed to be a red light. He could only look on in horror as the truck slammed into an unsuspecting Wilt Bozer, sending the young man over the windshield, on top of the car, and landing far out on the asphalt. He landed in the middle of the four-way intersection, people rushing onto the street to stop any cars that, somehow, may not have seen the collision from driving and running over the fallen man. One moment, he couldn’t move. The next, he was flying down the steps and yelling at his receptionist to call 9-1-1. Bozer had been so bruised and bloodied. His right arm looked broken. Calling it a mess would be an understatement.

“I was there when he was hit,” Doctor Redding answered quietly. “We had just finished our session.”

A cloud of emotion passed over MacGyver’s eyes, one Doctor Redding had a hard time sorting through. From what he heard from Bozer, the man in front of him was quite emotionally guarded, but his words were an understatement compared to the enigma he truly seemed to be. Doctor Redding had to know.

“But I could ask you the same question, Mr. MacGyver. What are _ you _ doing here?”

Mac swallowed thickly. “I’m still his emergency contact. He didn’t remove me, for some reason.”

“But that doesn’t necessarily require you to respond. You could have stayed away, yet you chose to come.”

“…I don’t know,” Mac whispered after a moment’s hesitation, turning his gaze back to the floor. “I’m guessing Bozer told you what happened between us, what with you being his therapist and all.”

Doctor Redding shrugged. “I can’t disclose that.”

Mac nodded slowly. “I want to apologize to him.”

Fighting back his smile proved harder than he’d originally anticipated. Doc didn’t exactly pride himself on being able to say _ “I told you so,” _ but this seemed too good to be true. Everything was so perfect here. Mac clearly regretted the past eight months, Bozer had the guilt complex the size of the Pacific Ocean, and the two were about to meet again after an emotional event. It was like a higher power had placed Doc here to be the mediator. 

Very well. He could play that part.

“Apologize?”

“I didn’t exactly act…_ nice _ the last time we saw each other.”

“Hm. Were you angry?”

“I didn’t think I was. All I did those first five months was miss him. And then I saw him again.” Mac took a deep breath. “I thought I was finally understanding him…and then I screwed it up.” Mac dropped his face into his hands.

Doctor Redding sighed, shaking his head lightly. “I wouldn’t say that you ‘screwed it up,’ as you so eloquently put it.” Mac raised his head to look at him, only looking slightly abashed. “You were hurt, upset, maybe even a little afraid. Maybe you weren’t quite as ready to see him again as you thought you were. Did you give yourself time to mourn, or did you just go straight to blaming someone, whether it be Bozer or yourself?”

“I…I thought it was my fault.”

Doc wagged a finger. “That, my dear boy, is _ not _ mourning, or even processing. Not everything is your fault, you know. It can fall onto another person. It can even fall onto nobody at all. Blame doesn’t always have to be placed. Sometimes, it’s just a really bad hand life dealt.” Doctor Redding winked. “But even the worst hands can win a game, and if it doesn’t, there’s always the next deal. I assure you. The probability of your next hand being worse than the last is unreasonably low.”

“But what if it’s not good enough?”

“Life is what you make of it. It’s not all black and white. Take a closer look at the cards you were dealt, Mr. MacGyver. Bozer told me you were brilliant, but maybe some plays aren’t logical.” He gave a small smile. “Maybe they’re just emotional, a gut feeling.”

Mac opened his mouth to respond, but another voice cut him off. 

“Family of Wilt Bozer?”

Doctor Redding pulled himself up from his seat, raising an eyebrow when Mac shot up. He must have sorely underestimated how much the two missed each other. He knew it had been difficult for Bozer to live without Mac, but eight months later, Mac still reacts like not a day has gone by? Rises like there was no argument between them and he really was a concerned best friend? Interesting.

“That’s us.”

Doc had the presence of mind to be touched, but he wasn’t family. He didn’t correct Mac, though. He wanted to hear about Bozer’s condition, and the doctor in front of them may be unwilling to release any information if he wasn’t. And Mac considered himself family? Or was that just a way to get the doctor to explain himself, just like Doctor Redding had done?

The doctor held out his hand for both of them to shake. “My name is Doctor Marcus Bennett. Please, walk with me.”

Doc and Mac shot a look at each other. They weren’t expecting great news.

“Before I start listing off injuries,” Doctor Bennett started, leading them down the hall. “I should mention that he is well and should be on his way to recovery.”

A heavy weight in Doctor Redding’s chest had lifted, and one look at Mac said the blond felt the same.

“However, it was touch and go for a while. The truck hit him pretty hard. Broke two ribs, a closed stable fracture in his right iliac wing-” he pointed to the area of where his right hip bone jutted out most in his skin – “a transverse fracture in his right radius, which is in his arm, and one hell of a concussion. Despite how bad that all sounds, he got off fairly easy. The main injury we’re concerned about is the concussion and his ribs.”

“Why are you concerned about his ribs?” Doctor Redding asked, raising an eyebrow. Concussions, he understood, but broken ribs were pretty tame once they’d been treated.

Doctor Bennett sighed. “One of them came very close to puncturing his lung, not to mention there was a source of internal bleeding around that area. We’re keeping a close eye on him to make sure nothing shifts, but we’re pretty optimistic.” Doctor Redding nodded his understanding.

“How long do you expect to keep him here?” Mac’s voice was quiet, but Doctor Bennett paid no attention to that.

“It’s hard to say. He’s woken up once already, but only long enough to assess his concussion. We intend to keep him here for about a week, especially because of the fractures and internal bleeding, but if he shows significant progress within the next few days, he may be able to go home earlier.” Doctor Bennett eyed the two of them carefully. “I trust one of you will be staying with him?”

Ah, there it was. Doctor Redding knew the question was coming from the minute Bozer had been struck, but he still had yet to come up with a good answer. He certainly couldn’t take Bozer home – he had crossed several professional lines as it was – but returning to live with Mac was still a significant issue, one Doc worried about as his therapist. Even he didn’t know how this all would affect Bozer mentally. He was sure he’d find out soon enough.

Mac stayed surprisingly quiet, so Doctor Redding was quick to pick up the slack. “Details are still being worked out, but he will have a place to rest and recover by the time he is released.”

Doctor Bennett seemed a bit wary of the answer but nodded hesitantly anyway. Their walk finally came to a stop outside of a hospital room, where he turned fully to address them. “This is his room. We’re only allowing one visitor at a time, so one of you will have to wait out here. Any other questions?”

Doc didn’t have any, and Mac still didn’t seem like he was going to answer, so Doc replied once more. “No, thank you. We appreciate your efforts.”

Doctor Bennett gave a smile and a nod before heading back the way they came.

“You should go in first, Doc,” Mac muttered. “I’ll wait out here.”

Doctor Redding raised an eyebrow. “Are you sure about that?”

“Yeah. Um, you’re his therapist. He’ll probably need you more, and...you probably have other appointments to get to, so…”

Doc didn’t have the heart to tell him he had Elizabeth cancel and reschedule all other appointments today, especially since he didn’t think he was in an emotional state to deal with other people’s issues at the moment. He understood Mac’s hesitancy, but if he knew better – which he liked to think he did – he’d think Mac wanted more time with Bozer once Doc left. 

He had no problem with that. The next session with Bozer will be interesting.

“If you insist.” Doc gave a wry smile before pushing open the door to Bozer’s room. 

The poor man looked frail on the bed, covered by hospital blankets and a nasal cannula resting on his face. The heart monitor beeped consistently and displayed numbers Doc didn’t quite know how to read. When he was younger, he never wanted to be a surgeon, but he figured those skills probably would’ve been useful right about now. Doctor Redding plopped himself down in a chair next to the bed. He didn’t know what Mac was going to do in the meantime, but he intended on waiting until Bozer woke up.

* * *

Mac watched the door to Bozer’s room close, Doctor Redding disappearing from sight. He let out a long, withering sigh. He knew he wouldn’t see Bozer for quite some time, and, while he wasn’t _ okay _ with that, he knew he needed it. Making the decision to show up to the hospital had been rash, immediate.

<strike> _ Instinctual? _ </strike>

He didn’t know why he was here. He and Bozer weren’t _ actually _ friends anymore…were they? So why did he come here? What would he do? The feelings he had, he still had trouble sorting them out. Did he feel angry? Did he feel betrayed? Was he relieved that Bozer was okay, or was he relieved for some selfish reason, like being able to get real answers for questions he had three months ago? All he knew was that he felt so alone. A hole in his chest that could never quite fill itself continued to grow, and he didn’t know how to fix it. Angus MacGyver - a man who improvised, adapted, and overcome any obstacle - couldn’t fix himself. He was a walking, talking contradiction, and he found that he couldn’t remember a time where he wasn’t. It made him wonder if that was why Bozer left, if the man’s depression was caused by living beside a person who couldn’t even tell his own lies apart from his truths.

_ “Not everything is your fault, Mac. Maybe sometimes it’s mine.” _

Mac scoffed quietly, still aware of his position in a public hallway. He leaned his back against the wall. No, that wasn’t possible. Nothing had ever really been Bozer’s fault. Mac was the one who lied about the Phoenix Foundation, the one who threw himself into danger with no thought as to who he might hurt in the process, the one who hid his feelings and trusted no one. He was the broken one. Everything he did – everything that led up to the moment Bozer walked out the door – that had all been on him. 

And he couldn’t deny it anymore.

The tears he shed at night, the messy home, the seclusion from the only people who truly cared about him…all of that was his fault. How could he have been so blind? So wrong? He knew, he _ knew _, the signs of depression. For someone who went through as much as he had, he was surprised he didn’t suffer from it himself, but he had read about it before. He knew what the symptoms looked like, knew what the effects on personal relationships would be. And he didn’t think to put his own problems aside long enough to realize he wasn’t the only one who could hurt. To him, it had always seemed so unrealistic that Bozer could suffer, too. The man hardly ever frowned, choosing to look at the bright side of things instead. Sure, he had been pissed when Mac finally relented his secrets about the Foundation, but he’d forgiven him. Why was it that Bozer could forgive Mac for betraying his trust, but Mac couldn’t forgive Bozer for leaving?

Angus MacGyver was a walking, talking contradiction.

He was an _ idiot. _

Mac pushed himself off the wall and made his way back to the waiting room. Doctor Redding might be a while, especially if he decided to wait until Bozer woke up from sedation. He had time to kill until then. He knew he shouldn’t do it – knew the verbal lashing he could receive if he did – but the silence was so suffocating and harsh that he found himself dialing the contact before he could think.

_ “Mac?” _

“Uh, hey, Matty.”

_ “What’s going on?” _

“Are you with Jack and Riley right now?”

_ “I could make myself not be.” _

“Please?”

A moment of silence passed before Matty spoke again. _ “Just me and you now. What’s up?” _

“I’m at the hospital.”

_ “You’re- what?” _

“It’s not for me,” he explained, the words rushing out of his mouth. “Well, I mean, _ I’m _ not the one who’s hurt. It’s…It’s, well…”

_ “…What happened to him?” _ Worry echoed in her voice.

God bless Matilda Webber.

“A car accident. Supposedly, a truck slammed into him while he was crossing the street. Ate a red light.”

_ “Christ,” _ she murmured. _ “How is he?” _

“I dunno. Doctor said he was going to be fine, but he hasn’t woken up yet.”

_ “I see.” _ She paused. _ “So what did you need me for?” _

“I…I don’t know.”

_ “Don’t know what? Why you called me or why you’re even there?” _

“…Both, I guess?”

Matty let out a long, suffering sigh. _ “Mac, don’t play dumb because you’re really not. You know damn well why you’re there.” _

“I do…?”

_ “Yes. You do. Do you think we’re blind, that I’m blind? That I can’t see when you’re hurting? For the past eight months, ever since Bozer left, you’ve been this empty shell of the stellar agent I once knew. You’ve become reckless to the point of almost suicidal, you’ve isolated yourself from anybody who tries to help you, I know for a fact that you haven’t built something just for the hell of it in a while…you are not Angus MacGyver. You haven’t been since that night.” _

“I know,” Mac whispered, because he did. He did know. He noticed it, too, but never had he felt compelled to actually fix it.

_ “You know why you’re at the hospital. I am willing to bet everything I have that you dropped everything when you got that call. You probably broke speed limits to get there, and, deep down, _ _ you know why__.” _

“Wanna enlighten me?” he muttered, though he knew what was coming. He just wasn’t sure he could admit to himself.

Matty had no qualms about answering for him. _ “You still care about him,” _ she replied, enunciating every word. _ “You still care for him, about his well-being, about his life. I bet you wonder every night if he’s okay, if he’s angry at you, if he’s forgiven you, which, by the way, there is nothing to forgive you for. Decisions had been made that night, and, yes, some of them may not have been the best choice, but it’s done. It’s over and done with now. It’s all in the past. Eight months in the past, mind you. So you both need to stop being ashamed of the decisions you made, because it’s time to make a new one, and this one will decide how you’re going to move on.” _

Mac took a shuddering deep breath, trying to hold the tears at bay. He’d cried enough this past year. He didn’t need to do it on the phone with his boss. Still, he couldn’t help the rasp in his voice when he asked, “That day, when I told you guys Bozer left, why didn’t you say anything? Why didn’t you say anything when all Jack and Riley did was curse him for going?”

_ “Because I wasn’t angry at him. I don’t choose sides, Mac. Not everything is black and white like you all made it out to be. It was no one person’s fault. Bozer made a choice he thought would benefit him. I cannot fault him for looking after himself. Granted, I very much think that decision was not the brightest, but he did, and I supported him, because that is what friends do. He didn’t make his choice out of malicious intent. In fact, I think the last thing he wanted to do was hurt you, but all of us only knew one side of the story that day, even you, and that was your side. None of us knew what Bozer was thinking, so I refrained from judging.” _

“Why didn’t you talk to me about this sooner?”

_ “That’s not my job, Mac,” _ she sighed. _ “Listen, it’s one thing to speak to you as your boss, and it’s another to speak to you as a friend. As your boss, I expressed my concern for you many times. Do you know how many missions there were where you could’ve gotten yourself killed because you were too busy blaming yourself for what happened? I’ll help you: all of them. You were a loose cannon. And I thought, as your friend, you needed time to mourn. You were hurt. For once, you were actually feeling pain instead of hiding it away, something you desperately needed to do. I wasn’t going to stop you. You hide your emotions so much, it’s all coming out now, because congratulations, MacGyver, you’ve finally reached your breaking point. How does it feel?” _

“It hurts,” he bit out, but his words lacked any heat.

_ “Well, that’s life,” _ Matty deadpanned. _ “We all go through grief, through hurt. You’re not the only one. But, now, you have to face it. Now is an opportunity, maybe even your last one, to finally make things right. So do it. That’s an order.” _

For the first time in months, the barest beginnings of a smile began to creep onto his face. “Yes, ma’am. Thank you, Matty.”

_ “Stop thanking me and go get your best friend back.” _

* * *

When Bozer came to, he felt…numb. Hints of discomfort made themselves known throughout his body, particularly on his right side, but they didn’t quite hurt. He could feel things around him, on him. Wires? A tube? And definitely something where something _ shouldn’t _ be. Bozer withheld a distressed sigh. He felt that feeling before, when he’d been stabbed during the siege. The only time he would be given a urinary catheter is if he was in a hospital, but he couldn’t recall why he would be there for the life of him.

It took a greater effort than he remembered to open his eyes. When he did, he immediately clamped them shut again. Bright white lights blinded his vision and sent sharp pain throughout his skull. God, he really hated headaches, but he figured this was more of a migraine than anything else. 

Too focused on trying to figure out how to open his eyes without being blinded, he nearly jumped out of his skin when a soft voice came from next to him.

"Bozer?"

He knew that voice. He knew it so well. Hearing it, images of a cozy, neutral-colored room came to his mind. A sense of relief filled him at the sound of it. A time of relaxation and calm overcame him, and he felt...concrete?

"Doctor Redding?" Holy hell. His voice sounded like shit. 

"Yes. Is the light too much for you?"

Bozer made a small noise of affirmation, and the light attempting to penetrate from behind his closed eyelids dimmed. He felt himself physically loosen. He allowed himself to open his eyes again, blinking a few times to adjust to the darkness. Eventually, he turned his head to the side, where he saw his therapist sitting beside him, a small and tired smile barely clinging to Doctor Redding's face.

"Doc? What are you doing here?"

Doc looked properly chastised, even though Bozer didn't know what for. "I know it's...unethical for me to be here, what with me being your therapist and such, but my concern for your health overrode my sense of professionalism. For that, I apologize."

It took a moment for the words to sink into Bozer's drug-addled mind. When it finally clicked, he furrowed his eyebrows. "You're apologizing for being a decent human being?" he deadpanned.

A startled laugh escaped Doctor Redding's lips as he reached for a cup with a straw on the bedside table. Bozer hadn't known how much he craved water until Doc moved the straw to his lips.

"Many patients prefer to keep their personal lives separate from their therapy appointments, which is entirely understandable. It prevents any bias from the therapist, but...I saw..." Doctor Redding drifted off. He frowned slightly. "How much do you remember?"

Bozer stopped drinking water for a moment, choosing instead to sort through his hazy memories and the pain in his head for an answer. Bits and pieces came back to him, but the whole picture still evaded him. "I remember our session...today?"

Doctor Redding nodded. "That was early this afternoon. It's late at night now."

A deep sigh escaped. "Right, uh...I remember leaving, heading down the street. I waited for the crosswalk light to turn green, I started to cross, and then..." Bozer hesitated, thinking over what he could recall. "I forgot what happened after, but I was on asphalt, and you were next to me?"

"Yes," Doctor Redding replied quietly, placing the cup back on the table. "You got most of it correct. You were crossing the street when a truck ate a red light and slammed into you. I watched it happen from the window in my office. I came down as soon as you were hit. The ambulance was called, and now you're in the hospital. It's been almost a full day."

"Wow." Bozer stayed quiet for a moment, processing the fact that he had just been hit by a _ truck_. Not a car, a _ truck_. He was damn glad he was high as a kite right now. "Have you talked to a doctor yet? How hurt am I?"

"You have a fractured bone in your right arm, a fracture in your right hip, a couple of broken ribs, and a concussion. Doctor Bennett says you were really lucky."

"Doesn't sound too lucky," Bozer murmured. "Bet it won't feel lucky either when I'm off whatever they're giving me."

Doctor Redding chuckled. "I'm sure." A short pause followed. "Bozer, I have to leave soon, but there is something I need to...advise you of."

Bozer raised an eyebrow. "What?"

"MacGyver is here."

Time seemed to freeze, and he would have sworn his heart stopped beating if the heart monitor didn't proclaim otherwise. Mac was...here? In the hospital? With him? _ For _ him? Why?

"He's...what?"

"I won't let him in if you don't want him to be," Doc assured. "But he seems very anxious to see you." Bozer could practically see the _ "I told you so" _ in his therapist's eyes. 

"Have you talked to him?"

"Somewhat. We met in the waiting room."

Bozer pursed his lips. "What did he say?"

Doctor Redding tutted at him. "Now, now. Even though he's not my patient, you know I won't just release details about a conversation I had with someone who required my assistance, but I will tell you that sitting with him for a bit may do wonders for the tense relationship the two of you have."

"What if it doesn't go well?" 

Doctor Redding tapped a button on Bozer's bed lightly. "This button will call a nurse straight away, and he will be removed from your room. You know this."

He did know it, but that hadn't been the answer he was looking for. He knew Doctor Redding knew that, too, but the look in Doc's eyes said the older man wouldn't be giving any more hints. It was all up to Bozer now.

Doctor Redding stood, a bit unsure. "Will I be seeing you again?”

Bozer gave a wry smile. "I'll call Liz soon to make another appointment."

For the briefest of seconds, a look of surprise crossed Doc's face, but a twinkle in his eye soon took its place. "I thought you didn't have a phone."

"I have a phone. I said I didn't charge it." Bozer winked. "I still have the charger and the bookstore actually pays its electricity bill."

A proud smile crossed Doc's face. The man knew how big a step it was for Bozer to finally turn on his phone again after so long. He looked forward to hearing about the next step Bozer would take in a mere moment from now.

"Good night, Bozer."

"Good night, Doc. Thank you, and drive safely."

"Of course." 

With that, Doc disappeared down the hall, and Bozer was left alone again, though he wasn't sure for how long. Worry began to tighten in his chest. The thought of Mac coming in here to talk to him after how horribly their last conversation had gone scared him. Hell, it _ terrified _him. Why would Mac want to see him again? Bozer hadn't exactly been forthcoming with his answers last time.

A majority of his conscience didn't want Mac to come in, didn't want to hash through the same argument they had before. Yet, a small part of him still hoped. That itty-bitty fragment of him he and Doc had talked about that morning still persisted, begging for a second chance, and he was about to get it. The question was, did Mac feel the same?

Bozer had to believe he did. It wouldn't make sense if he didn't. Mac wasn't so cruel as to show up at the hospital and stay for hours on end just to snap and yell at him. That wasn't who Angus MacGyver was. Then again, a person could change a lot in eight months. Bozer would know. 

He was pulled from his thoughts by a soft knocking at his door. He turned his head and, sure enough, the one and only MacGyver stood in his doorway, looking as nervous as Bozer felt. 

"Hey," Bozer croaked out.

A smile more fragile than cracked glass crossed Mac's face. "Hey."

An awkward silence passed between them. Bozer tried to pretend it didn't hurt more than the headache did.

"You gonna come in?"

A slight exhale of a disbelieving breath escaped Mac's lips, but the sound didn't sound angry or sardonic. Maybe a bit resigned, tired. Still, the blond made his way to the chair Doctor Redding previously occupied.

"Um, how are you...feeling?" Mac asked quietly, eyes staring down at his intertwined hands.

Bozer couldn't make eye contact, either, choosing instead to stare up at the bright moon outside his window. "Pretty numb. They, uh, they have me on something or another. Can't really feel much right now."

"Morphine," Mac murmured.

"Yeah, that."

Another tense silence followed.

"I'm sorry."

They both suddenly locked eyes, staring at each other in shock. Neither had expected the other to apologize, much less at the same time. Mac gave a sad smile.

"How can we still do that after eight months?"

"Some things never really go away, do they?" Bozer whispered softly.

"They can if we move past it." 

Mac wasn't speaking about their synchronized apology anymore. Good, because Bozer wasn't either.

"I meant it just as much as did three months ago," Bozer pressed. "I really am sorry."

Mac swallowed thickly, nodding slowly. "I know. So am I."

Bozer wanted to shake his head vehemently, but his concussion stopped him from doing so. Instead, he settled for a desperate, "You have nothing to be sorry for."

"I have everything to be sorry for," Mac replied, a self-derogatory chuckle following. "I was really blind for a while, wasn't I?"

"What are you talking about?"

Mac looked directly at him. "I missed it. I missed so much. I didn't see how much you were hurting until it was too late, and I...I am so, _ so _ sorry."

Bozer could only fall into a stunned silence. The hell was Mac talking about? This was Bozer's fault, not his! Bozer had been selfish, cruel. He had ditched Mac when it suited him. Doctor Redding told him that, sometimes, self-care and selfishness couldn't be easily distinguished, but That Night had been a very selfish move. He could not - _ would not _ \- be convinced otherwise.

“Mac...you didn’t...it wasn’t…”

“Yes, it was,” Mac argued, voice getting a little frustrated. “How could you not understand? All these years, I’ve been focusing on my own hurt, my own pain, that I didn’t stop to see yours. I _ lied _ to you, you were attacked twice, nearly killed both times. That would have been on me. God knows what else happened that I don’t know about because I’m _ never around_. I’m always in a different country, or spending time with someone else. It was never just us anymore, and I pushed you aside, and _ I’m sorry. _”

Bozer was silent for a moment, only for a laugh to escape him. Mac narrowed his eyes, confused as to what Bozer found funny.

“You...You really think that’s what I was ‘depressed’ about? You really think that’s what caused it?” Bozer gave Mac a tight smile. “Mac, you didn’t _ cause _ my mental issues. You’re not the reason why I have a hard time functioning some days. If anything, you kept me going.”

Poor Mac looked genuinely lost. “So then, why did you leave?”

Bozer knew the question was coming, but it didn’t make it any easier to answer. He took in a shaky breath. “I...When I first learned I had depression, it was when you were off in Nicaragua for some mission. Honestly, I don’t remember why, but it had been almost half a year before I left. All I can remember was that, instead of actually processing my condition, all I could do was worry. I wasn’t worrying about me; I was worrying about _ you _, and I kept worrying about you every time you came and left until I realized that I had pushed my own health aside, and I was only getting worse.”

He turned his gaze away from Mac and looked up at the ceiling. “I heard that, when it came to mental health and stuff, you couldn’t worry about others and yourself at the same time. It wouldn’t help things; it would just make things worse for you. That night, the night I left, I was in the middle of...it was a…” Bozer swallowed thickly. “I just call them ‘bad days.’ I made the decision before I even really knew what I was doing. All I know is that I didn’t want to put this stress on you - because you have more than enough of it - but I also couldn’t keep worrying about you and me at the same time. So, I...I…”

“You left,” Mac finished quietly.

Bozer let out a deep sigh. “Yeah. I left.”

Mac didn’t speak for a moment, almost as if he was trying to come to terms with Bozer’s confession. Bozer could practically hear the gears in Mac’s head turning, yet he couldn’t bring himself to smile at their long-running joke. It seemed so distant now, like they had put so much in between them, it would be impossible to clear it all out.

“I...get it.”

Bozer’s attention immediately snapped over to Mac, trying his best to hide his surprise.

“Well, I mean, I don’t _ get _ it, but...I understand. At least, I think I do.”

Bozer looked on sadly. “I can only ask for you to understand.”

Mac closed his eyes and shook his head. “No, Boze. You can ask for more than that.” Mac looked up and gave a soft smile. “You can ask to come back home.”

Bozer’s brain short-circuited and he could only think of one thing: _ What the fuck what the fuck what the fuck- _

Mac snorted lightly at what Bozer presumed to be his absolutely dumbfounded expression. “Bozer, I know I haven’t made things easy. When I was sitting in the waiting room, your therapist was talking to me and he said some stuff to me that really...opened my eyes, I guess? He told me that blame doesn’t always have to be placed. And Matty told me that friends support each other. Those are things I should have known for a while, but I blocked it all out because it seemed so different when it involved you, and that’s not fair because none of us are perfect. It was unfair of me to pretend you couldn’t be upset, or hurt, or be unable to make mistakes.”

Bozer found himself floundering to say the words he so desperately wanted to say but couldn’t quite get out. Mac continued over him.

“Don’t get me wrong, I’m still hurt. I’m still hurt that you thought you couldn’t come to me about this over a year ago, I’m still hurt that you thought I didn’t care enough to put down whatever I was doing to help you, but I understand. I understand why you didn’t and I want to fix it. The past eight months have been...hard. All I could think about was you. Everything we ever did together, ever said. It was all I could think of.” Mac swallowed thickly, gazing at Bozer with suspiciously wet eyes as he whispered, “I wasn’t angry at you. I just...really, _ really _ missed you.”

Unlike Mac, Bozer couldn’t quite hold back his tears. “You have no idea how much I missed you, too. I am so sorry.”

Mac gave him a weak smile, but it was the most genuine one he’d had in months. “Does that mean...you’ll come back?”

“I honestly thought you’d never ask.”

Before Bozer could even blink, Mac’s arms were thrown around him, ever so careful around his injuries. He wrapped his left arm around Mac as much as he could, and if the part of his hospital gown covering his shoulder got a little wet, he didn’t mention it because Mac’s shoulder was even wetter.

* * *

“You okay?”

Bozer rolled his eyes. “Mac, I’m fine.”

“You don’t look fine,” the blond stressed, moving to open the front door.

“Yes, because I’m supposed to _ look _ like a Hollywood model after getting hit by a F-450.”

Mac winced in sympathy. “Yeah, I could imagine.” He inserted the key into the lock.

“You telling me you’ve never gotten hit by a car before?”

Mac paused, hesitating in his movements as he tried to remember. “Uh...I guess...Does jumping in front of a car count?”

“Why the _ hell _ were you jumping in front of a car?”

Mac shrugged. “I forgot. I think I was stopping it because it was carrying something we needed. I dunno.”

“Jesus Christ,” Bozer muttered.

Mac took out the key from the lock but didn’t turn the doorknob to open the door. Bozer looked up at him questioningly.

“You gonna...let us in?”

Mac looked like he wanted to be anywhere but there. “Um, the house might be a little…”

Bozer didn’t need him to continue. He understood. His apartment looked like a hurricane had hit it, too. After moving out, he never had the energy to clean it, missed somebody helping him or keeping him company while he did so. Everything he did brought back memories. It was bittersweet to know Mac felt the same.

Instead of saying such, Bozer merely gave him a wide grin and said, “Guess we’ll be living in a pigsty until the doc clears me to lift things again.”

Mac still seemed unsure, but he still asked, “Will you be playing your music when you do?”

“Mac, you won’t be able to _ hear _ the music over how loud I’ll be singing.”

Mac hadn’t smiled as wide as he did at that moment in a long, _ long _ time. He wrapped his arms around Bozer, careful not to hurt him. Bozer, caught off guard, took a moment to return the hug, but when he did, he did so as fiercely as he could.

“...I really missed you, Boze.”

“Yeah, man. I love you, too.”

* * *

_ And where would I be without you? _

_ I’d be packing my bags when I need to stay _

_ I’d be chasing every breeze that blows my way _

_ I’d be building my kingdom just to watch it fade away _

_ It’s true _

_ That’s me without you _

~ _ Me Without You _, TobyMac

* * *

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: Wow! This took longer than I thought! Still not quite where I want it to be, but I also don’t know where else to take it. If you guys like fics like these, I have about four other fics that are Bozer and Mac friendship-centric. I would greatly appreciate it if you could check those out.  
Also, I normally don’t do this - like, at all - but I posted an original work called The Healer. It’s not long, but it’s my first time seriously writing something completely from my own mind and heart, and if you could please leave some critiques on it, I would be so grateful.  
Thank you so much for reading! I hope you enjoyed!


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